


muse

by orphan_account



Series: drabbles [13]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adorable Lance (if u ask keith and me), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Keith, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-22 23:56:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19139437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (keith likes to watch lance’s nose scrunch).





	muse

Lance wrinkles his nose again.

“Stay still,” Keith scolds, halting his paintbrush to a stop above Lance’s nose. Lance peeks from one eye, his brows slowly furrowing into an irritated frown. 

“It tickles,” he says, scrunching his nose deliberately, probably to get rid of the tickling sensation. And despite it being the most  _ adorable  _ expression on Lance’s face—which briefly fills Keith with the urge to kiss and kiss and kiss him—he glares at Lance dismissively.

“Tell your tickle receptors to take a nap, I’m trying to do art here,” Keith says, his other hand coming up to hold Lance’s jaw, stilling his head. Lance mumbles something breathily, but obliges, closing his eyes and leaning back into the couch.

Once Keith is sure Lance won’t fidget anymore, he returns to painting, sliding the paintbrush across Lance’s skin, leaving a trail of bluish grey behind. He sees Lance’s lip quivering slightly, struggling to keep his face motionless, and because Lance is still frowning—and because Keith can and he wants to—Keith leans and smacks a chaste kiss at the shaky corner of Lance’s mouth.

Keith sees Lance smile, but the boy’s voice is playfully accusing when he speaks.

“You have, like, sixteen empty canvases. Maybe use them instead? You know, like a  _ normal artist?” _ Lance says, speaking in a way that requires the least movement from his mouth. Keith gently turns Lance’s face to the side, painting the clean skin there; he outlines a tiny wave and then colors it inside.

“Professor Coran said to draw whenever my muse comes to me,” Keith says, half of his attention focused on mixing two colors to get the perfect shade of blue. “And my canvas is all the way in my bedroom while your face is right here.” It’s not exactly a lie, despite him wanting to look at Lance’s face and make his nose scrunchy whenever it tickles, Keith really is lazy to get up and paint properly.

Lance seems to consider his words, and Keith sees the moment his entire demeanor turns smug, his lips quirk into a grin and one of his eyes peels open to reveal a mirthful glint sparkling in blue.

“Your muse, AKA me,” Lance says, wiggling his brows in a stupidly dorky way to which Keith is not sure if he should roll his eyes or lean in and kiss his mouth.

Keith rolls his eyes, partly from exasperation and partly from overflowing fondness.

“I know, babe, I know,” Lance says, patting Keith’s shoulder with feigned sympathy; Lance is so silly and unreasonably goofy, it just fill Keith’s heart with warmth and makes him want to kiss his cheeks until they’re red. “I’m unbelievably charming.”

He is, but Keith will never tell him that. Not right now, anyway. He settles on tickling Lance’s nose with the brush again, intentionally this time, smearing some of the blue paint at the tip of his nose. It makes Lance giggle, makes his nose scrunchy and his eyes wrinkly, his short but genuine laughter floods their small living room, making it brighter and warmer and happier.

Keith kind of. Leans back and, just, watches him. The way Lance smiles after laughing, the way he’s slumped on the couch comfortably, the way his hair is curled at the ends, framing his face and making him look much softer. It makes  _ Keith _ feel softer, his chest lighter with thousands of fireflies, dim and calm and content.

Keith loves him, so, so much.

“God, stop giving me that look,” Lance says bashfully and a little exasperated, his cheeks flushing red under the layer of paint. Keith huffs a laugh, and definitely doesn’t stop giving him the look. Instead, he moves closer, lowering his hands to his lap and arching his neck closet to Lance’s face.

“Can’t,” Keith says, words quiet and low, and sincere, his breath fanning against the warmth of Lance’s skin. “You’re too beautiful.”

“Oh  _ my god,” _ Lance says in-between giggles, covering one side of his face with his hand, careful not to ruin Keith drawing. He’s flustered, and a flustered Lance is a cute and adorable and  _ very _ kissable Lance.

Keith closes the distance between them before Lance says anything else—and before his own nerves start buzzing with anticipation. Keith’s smiling, and he can feel Lance smiling against his lips too, and it’s perfect. It’s chaste and gentle and soft, and weirdly calming; Keith’s heart beats so steadily, a faint sense of settlement and belonging slowly crawls its way into Keith’s chest and embeds into his bones.

Lance has a dreamy grin on his face when Keith pulls away, and Keith pecks him once more, shorter this time but no less profound. He continues to slide his brush against Lance’s skin and Lance scrunches his nose again, ( _ it tickles, Keith, I can’t tell my nose not to tickle! _ ), and Keith kisses the tip of it with a significant fire settling in his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://yourfriendlyneighborsam.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/frendlysam) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/friendlyneighborsam/) (i post tiny drabbles on ig)


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